


she loves me not

by dracoownsmyass



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Addiction, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst, Cigarettes, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Drugs, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Kitchens, Hogwarts Seventh Year, House Elves, Muggles, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Hogwarts, Slavery, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29383353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoownsmyass/pseuds/dracoownsmyass
Summary: "You don't know how it-""How it feels? I know damn well how it feels. It feels like a crippling disease which slowly but irresistibly decomposes your entire body and you are powerless to stop it, to make it even slightly bearable. So you just have to watch how it's slowly destroying your sole existence until you aren't able to recognize yourself and everything you do, you do in despair... you're that disease to me, Granger."In which the war has been lost, selected students return to school to complete their seventh year and Hermione finds herself hiding in the Hogwarts kitchens, washing dishes, with nothing but the invisibility cloak and a very good reason to sneak around.*slowburn dramione fic*
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley
Comments: 11
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter l.**

escapism  
 _/ɪˈskeɪpɪz(ə)m,ɛˈskeɪpɪz(ə)m/_

 _noun_  
1\. the tendency to seek distraction and relief from unpleasant realities, especially by seeking entertainment or engaging in fantasy.

_ 2 May 1998_

_ "Harry Potter is dead."_

_ A sharp, painful feeling rushed through Hermione, filling her entire body with an aching sense of despair._

_ Her heart broke._

_ "The boy who lived. Conquered.“ _

_ No. It couldn’t be. Harry wasn‘t dead._

_ The still corpse of a young, powerful wizard was laying in Hagrid’s arms, stiff and lifeless. Hermoine has never seen him look so weak and disconnected from reality. His green eyes were gazing into the distance, almost a relieved look on his face, as if he finally belonged. As if he found something he had been looking for a very long time._

_ A lump was forming in her throat, tears starting to blur her vision. _ _ Hermione couldn’t bear the sight of him. But she wasn’t able to move. _

_ "The prophecy has been fullfilled.” _

_ A crowd of people began cheering triumphantly. Gazing over the applauding swarm of Death Eaters, Hermione catched someone’s eyes. A blond-headed boy was staring directly at her, a dreadful look on his face.  _

Run.

_ That‘s all Hermione could hear. Or think. But she couldn’t move. She couldn’t just leave Harry behind._

_ She felt dizzy, her heart pounding in her chest painfully._

_ Suddenly something was pulling her away from the crowd. Tightly gripping her hand was Ron, dragging her behind him,running as fast as he could. Light-headedly she stumbled behind him, a grim voice buzzing in her ears._

_ "The Order has been defeated. Dumbledore has lost...“ _

_ She couldn’t feel anything. Her feet were dragging her body along the school grounds, teadiously forcing her to move. _

_"...the ministry has fallen...“ _

_ Breathing heavily she felt her blood unsteadily pounding through her veins, a nauseating panic overcoming her body. She felt sick. _ _ They reached the border of Hogwarts and entered the forbidden forest. _

_ "...from this day forth you will put your faith in your leader the Dark Lord...“ _

_ She tried covering her ears but wasn‘t able to suppress the sound._

_ "...you, who have fought and resisted shall ask for mercy and join the dark side; or else shall face horrendous consequences of cruelty and torture you cannot bare imagine...“ _

_ Ron grabbed her jacket, now forcefully pulling her through the woods. A sob escaped her lips at the sudden tug._

_ "...if you plead for forgiveness and promise loyalty we shall overlook your past and tolerate your request.“ _

_ Tears started streaming down her face._

_"Together we begin anew._ _ Declare yourself now, or die." _

_ Fading into the distance, the voice almost disappeared._

_ "Harry Potter is dead." The words echoed in her ears._

No.

_ "...you shall now step forward and join the dark Lord!"_

No!

_ "Harry Potter is dead!"_

NO!

***

Slowly regaining her consciousness Hermione found herself pressed against a cold and hard surface. She felt weak. A strong, cold breeze brushed over her face, sharpening her senses. Suddenly everything seemed to move a hundred miles an hour. Breathing heavily, Hermione started feeling anxiety creep through her veins, uncertain where she was. Her tense body slammed into the floor a few times, waking her up entirely. Taking in her surroundings she felt confused and disoriented.

She couldn‘t remember anything. Except-

_ Oh _ .

Suddenly everything came back.

It wasn’t a dream. None of it was a dream. Hermione felt sick.

It‘s been roughly three months since the war and not a day has passed without those memories occupying her mind, leaving her no peace. They kept coming back, tormenting her. Ever since Harry died.

Ever since Voldemort declared muggleborns to be unworthy of magic.

Ever since she started running for her life.

When she looked back at it, everything faded into one big blur. Time seemed to lose it’s meaning, only being needed to separate day from night. She couldn’t say whether it’s been a week since they fled from Hogwarts, or a year. All she knew was that at some point Ron’s hand had let go of her’s and she found herself alone, scared and filled with sorrow. 

That was right before she got put in this small, cold compartment in a train. One could hardly call it a compartment, as it resembled more a wooden cage for circus animals. She wondered if that was exactly what she will be considered as from now on. An animal. At least the last few days made her feel like one. Trapped inside this cage and only being fed a small portion of bread twice a day. She didn‘t even know she was inside a train until a week had passed and it finally began moving past the brick wall she had been staring at.

Hermione watched the faint shadows move around the train compartment as she tried to shut out the loud ringing in her head that had been a constant companion for the last couple of weeks. Her whole body ached.

The occasional jerking of the train created a restless energy in her, making it almost impossible to think. Ever since the war had been lost she was constantly on the move. She couldn’t trust anyone and avoided public places in fear of being surrendered to the Dark Lord. Since day one of Voldemort being in power over the wizarding world muggleborns had been persecuted and abused. It had only been a matter of time before she was caught.

And now that she found herself inside this moving train, Hermione had lost all hope.

After all they went through. It was over.

She remembered renting different hotel rooms every night, sleeping in tents and constantly changing their location. She had been lucky that she still had her wand, as Voldemort declared a No-Wand-Policy for muggleborns shortly after his victory. That way she could protect herself if she felt threatened and was able to easily shoplift small amounts of food to keep them alive. Although she would never tell Ron about that.

They were hiding in the the Forest of Dean when two masked Death Eaters attacked them. She still wondered how they found them, having protective enchantments guarding the area she and Ron hid away in. But being encouraged by their new leader made the Death Eaters‘ magic grow stronger. So it didn’t surprise her.

They separated them. She remembered wanting to turn around, apparating with Ron but she couldn‘t find him. Hermione ran as fast as she could and as long as her feet could carry her until she broke down, coughing and panting. When she looked up the Death Eater was gone, and so was Ron.

Hermione had never felt as alone as she had in those following weeks. When she fled from the Death Eaters she had broken her wand, making her compeletely reliant on the muggle world. The shoplifting became harder and she found herself more than once running from angry employees. She became paranoid, never feeling safe and often hiding away in the most peculiar places. Her constant fear resulted in sleepless nights and hallucinations and every day her food ration decreased.

So when the next attack had approached Hermione didn‘t even fight back. She didn’t have the energy.

She felt herself pick on the sides of her nails. A bad habit she had developed in a desperate attempt to release the constant tension in her body. She didn‘t even feel the pain anymore.

Hermione tried to concentrate on her surroundings, taking in the cold atmosphere of the compartment and tried to look out of the small, round window she has been leaning against for the past few hours. She could hardly recognize anything outside but somehow the landscape appeared familiar. Odd. She must have been imagining it. She freed her eyes from the window and let her gaze wander over the small room. Most of the people in there were either sleeping or half awake, all of them covered with blue, purple or green bruises and looking as though they‘ve been through hell and back. Everyone in the compartment was muggleborn. Or at least Hermione assumed they were, considering their tired looks.

Hermiones eyes slowly drifted away. Despite all the pain she felt, she still considered herself lucky to be alive. She has seen many muggleborns be captured and meet their fate, others that had turned themselves in regarding the loss of their freedom as the less painful option.

She could only speculate what was going to happen to her. But she had an uneasy feeling about it, especially since she had actively fought beside Harry Potter, making her one of the most wanted public enemies. However, if they wanted her dead, they would have already killed her. There was no reason for delaying it, so she could only assume she was to be listed as slave.

Feeling a shiver run down her body, Hermione pulled her knees up to her chest and tightly held onto herself. The left sleeve of her jacket rose up revealing a faded scar spelling the word mudblood. It looked red and painful on her pale wrist. She quickly pulled down the sleeve but couldn’t help thinking about that evening in Malfoy Manor. She could almost feel Bellatrix’ hot, obnoxious breath on her skin. Every time she closed her eyes Bellatrix Lestrange’s shrilly scream echoed through her ears. That evening somehow marked the beginning of the end.

Bitter vomit started coming up her throat. Swallowing it back down, she quickly tried to think about something else.

Ron suddenly appeared in her mind and she felt herself relaxing. The single thought of him made her feel warm and safe.

She didn‘t know if Ron was still alive or not, she hasn’t had an opportunity to listen to the radio in a while now.

But somehow she still had this slight spark of hope inside of her that Ron was alive and that he just got lost in the woods being the idiot that he is.

Suddenly the compartment seemed to become agitated, the atmosphere in there changing and Hermione started to look around trying to figure out what was happening. The train had started to slow down. Hermione turned towards the window. The sun was set by now and in the distance she could identify a small platform, surrounded by fir trees.

They have reached their destination. Wherever this might be.

Ice crystals started forming on the window frame. With all the dementors swarming around, looking for muggleborns and other war opponents since the war was over, the seasons seemed to do whatever they wanted and it was oddly cold at all times.

When the platform moved closer and she started examining her environment her heart started pounding in her chest.

She knew this gate too well, even though she hadn’t been here for over two years now. It was still slightly damaged from the war but Hermione could clearly recognise it.

The train came to an abrupt hold and many people in the barren compartment fell harshly against each other. Some of the older witches and wizards started praying, fearing what would happen to them next. Others, mostly younger muggle borns, were crying. There were also children in the compartment, the youngest that Hermione saw must‘ve been only ten years old.

She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing but she couldn’t stop the fear running through her entire body. She knew she could be hallucinating and only imagining the platform she thought to recognize. This had happened a few times on the run. Once, she even imagined Ron standing right in front of her, calling her name. She remembered that she tried to run to him, to reach him. But she never did.

There were muffled voices outside the carriage now but Hermione couldn’t make out anything they were saying. There were just too many to filter out a single conversation.

They waited a long time listening to the disappearing voices until everything went silent.

Then the door to the compartment slammed open. Cold air hit Hermione and she only realised now by how the air was sucking itself onto her wet cheeks that she had been crying.

A masked person was standing in the doorway. Hermione guessed that it was a woman by the curved and petite features she could identify under the long, loose black robes.

People in the compartment were now quickly pushing themselves into the furthest corner of the train and Hermione could feel sweaty and bony bodies pressing hard against her. 

The whole atmosphere was now soaked with panic and the smell of tears.

The masked person let their empty eyes slowly and calmly sweep over the mass of muggle borns which were now all hoarded in one corner.

Suddenly, a voice filled the room. It took Hermione quite a few seconds to realize that the high pitched, motherly voice came from the masked death eater, as it didn’t fit the ominous looking garment the cloaked person was wearing.

"Everyone get in a queue, now."

The voice seemed familiar. A strange sensation of hope filled her whole body. But it couldn’t be, could it?

Before she could finish her thought the silence was interrupted by a loud noise that came from the masked person. The Death Eater had their wand now pointed straight towards the crowd.

"I said get in a queue,  _now_!" The Death Eater yelled, with a hint of frustration.

She definitely recognized the voice.

People were now forming a line, slowly passing Hermione, all of them terrified of what will happen to them next and before Hermione realized she found herself standing at the end of the queue.

The queue was steadily moving forward. Hermione quickly tried to think of ways to escape her fate. But even though her mind was racing she couldn’t picture a realistic way out of this miserable situation. Especially since she could make out three Death Eaters in total waiting for them outside the door. Hermione knew if she ran now, she would most likely die on the spot.

The door was coming nearer.

"Come on, move it."

Only three people were in front of her. Hermione felt her heart beating in her chest.

When she stepped outside the train onto the hard pavement, she was hit by freezing September air.

"Ah, hello Miss Granger."

Hermione was now standing right in front of the three Death Eaters. The tallest one grabbed her by her arm, holding her with a steady but gentle grip. Towering over her, Hermione felt helpless and vulnerable. The third Death Eater, distracted by the other muggleborns and trying to keep them in a line, was as tall as herself and regarding the features under the robe Hermione figured she must’ve been a girl.

When the Death Eater turned around to close the door of the train compartment, Hermione felt a rush of adrenalin taking over her body. She knew there was no point in fighting but her instincts forced her to at least try to resist and before she knew it, her fist landed in the tall Death Eater’s stomach.

Bending over in pain the man started grunting and swearing. Hermione hastily glanced around the station, seeking for an opportunity to run. In the distance she could make out the silhouette of a tall, lanky man. He was standing with his back to them, seeming to be deep in thought, a big cloud of smoke surrounding him.

Before Hermione could react, the first masked person was already by her side, wand raised.

The death eater straightened back up and tightened his grip on her arm. Without realizing it, a whimper left her mouth.

In the corner of her eye she could see movement. The boy in the distance had stepped into the light and the suddenly illuminated white hair stung in her eye. Without having to see his face she knew who she was looking at.

Draco Malfoy.

Suddenly a sharp smell filled her lungs and within the spreading darkness of her sight, her thoughts about the white haired boy became blurry, slowly drifting away.

As the sweet aroma slowly engaged her body she could feel her senses become cloudy. The last thing she remembered was her knees giving in and sinking to the ground of the platform becoming more and more unconscious, only being supported by the grasp of the Death Eater she just hit a few seconds ago.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II.**

**lacuna**

_/ləˈkjuːnə/_

_noun_

  1. an unfilled space, a missing part



Before Hermione was able to open her eyes, she felt the hard and cold ground underneath her shoulder blades and her skull. Instant panic took over her body and suddenly she felt as if she was back in Malfoy Manor, the cold, wooden floor pressing into her back, Bellatrix kneeling on top of her. Her entire body stiffened. She wanted to scream just as she did that evening when a creaky and high voice grabbed her attention.

Dobby?

She opened her eyes, suddenly wide awake, her whole body thrilled with tension and excitement. Her heart was racing in her chest.

Hermione‘s eyes skimmed the room and she recognized some house elves running around. But then she realized that she couldn’t have heard Dobby. Because he was dead.

Her vision was still blurry but her body lost a bit of the tension.

She let herself take in her surroundings. It was a large room with high ceilings covered in bricks. The room was filled with at least fifty bunk beds and multiple mattresses which covered the entire floor. There was a big wooden door and a shelf full of colorful plants of all shapes and sizes. The only light came from a single, small window and a few flying candles illuminating the room.

"Miss is not sleeping. Miss is awake, finally!"

Hermione turned her head around hastily, looking for the source of the voice. She found herself looking into two large, brown eyes.There, standing at the side of her matress was a small house elf, dressed in nothing but a dirty, almost brown looking piece of fabric. It must have been white once.

"I- I- Where-," Hermione started stuttering. She hasn’t talked to anyone since Ron and when she heard her voice again she didn’t recognize it.

"Me has waited for Miss to wake up. Me is very excited to finally meet Miss!"

"I- Where are am I? Who are you?" Hermione continued stuttering. Her brain still felt foggy.

"Me is Tip, Miss, Tip is very, very glad Miss is finally awake! Tip was thinking about calling Master, because Miss would not wake up."

Hermione continued looking at the small house elf. He looked so much like Dobby. "So... Tip- Where are we? Who is your Master?"

Tip eyed Hermione with his huge eyes, an almost surprised look in them.

"Miss is in Hogwarts, Miss. Tip was thinking Miss would be knowing-"

Hogwarts.

Then she remembered the gate she recognized and the strange voice that she could swear belonged to—. Hermione felt her heart racing in her chest. Now everything started to make sense. The sudden knowledge hit her like a thousand waves, making it hard for her to catch a breath.

"-Tip has to show Miss her work. Tip will help Miss as good as Tip can! Does Miss want to come with me to the workspace?"

"I- Tip, tell me, how long was I unconscious for?"

"A day, Miss."

A day. A whole day. That would explain why she felt so unusually well rested.

Then it hit her. Ron. Could Ron be at Hogwarts? Was he save? Was he even alive?

So many thoughts were running through her head and a sudden wave of hope embraced her body.

"Do you know if many students have returned after the battle, Tip?" Hermione asked breathlessly. "Have you seen Ron or Neville or Luna?"

"Tip is very sorry Miss, but Tip is only in the kitchen, doing his work. Tip is not usually upstairs, Miss."

Just now Hermione noticed all the noise that came from the room next door. She could hear hurried footsteps and dishes clattering against each other and voices summoning more bread and tomatoes and bells ringing and you could hear food roasting on a grill and oh- you could smell food roasting on a grill. And suddenly thousands of sweet, pleasant aromas filled her nostrils and she could taste all kinds of different spices on her lips. She inhaled a strong, rich scent that made her stomach growl and drank it in as if it had been wine.

"We need to get to work now, Miss, the feast needs to be ready soon," Tip said looking at her with his large brown eyes.

"The — feast?"

"Yes Miss, Tip will show you! Follow me."

Hermione slowly got on her feet. Her body felt stiff and weak after being asleep for a day and her legs were wobbly as she slowly dragged them forward, following Tip through the empty bedchamber and towards a wooden door.

The door was linked to a gigantic room with elated, arched ceilings and five very large tables that stretched through the whole room. It looked almost identical to the Great Hall, but less elaborate. Instead of large windows and eccentric ornaments, the room was covered in stone walls and furnished with cabinets and stoves. There was also a large brick fire place at one end of the room. Pots and pans heaped around the walls as well as floating around the air, controlled by one of the many house elves running around.

It was quite overwhelming for all of her senses. Between loud clashes of pots and strong scents of herbes, Hermione tried to follow Tips instructions and comments.

She had already read much about the kitchen in „Hogwarts: A History“ but seeing it in person was a whole other experience altogether.

„- and when the dishes are ready they are placed on the tables, and transported up to the Great Hall,“ Tip explained, pointing to the bare ceilings.

"Miss will work here and make sure everything is clean, like mopping the floor and cleaning the used dishes. But Miss has not to be sad, maybe someday Miss can work with me! We could cook dinner together then!”

Hermione smiled, a warm feeling spreading through her whole body. For the first time since the war was lost, she felt safe.

***

That night Hermoine lay in bed wide awake. Too many things ran through her mind to let her sleep. She was glad to be at Hogwarts but still wasn‘t sure who brought her there and why and if it was safe, with Voldemort’s followers probably roaming the hallways all the time. She thought a lot about Ron too. Desperately wanting to be near him she clinged to the memories of the time before the war. She remembered catching him one evening in the common room staring at her while she did her studies. Just staring. Watching her with fond eyes and a small smile on his lips. She longed for simple moments like these, soaking in their memory, tightly holding on to the feeling.

Her thoughts wandered through the past, recalling her time at Hogwarts. Now that she was inside the castle it was easier to remember, with the familiar smell of magic reminding her of all those years she spent there. Heavy-hearted she kept replaying these memories. And just for a few hours she let time turn back. A time capsule dug up from her heart holding the memories of one very special person. While she was on the run she didn’t let herself think about him as it brought her too much pain.

It still did.But she embraced it. She embraced the memories of Harry.

Harry.

She missed him. He was the person who was always at her side no matter what. He didn’t stand a chance being targeted by one of the most powerful wizards in the world. He was doomed the day he was born. Her heart ached thinking of him. He didn’t deserve it. Every time she closed her eyes she saw him and Fred and Lupin and Tonks and everyone else who tragically lost their lives fighting in vain. Occasionally she would hear a quiet sob, reminding her that everyone in this room had lost their life along the way, one way or the other.

Her mind was restless and although her body was exhausted from all the work in the kitchen, most of the night was spent sleepless.

Tired and drained of all energy Hermione shifted on the old, uncomfortable mattress she was assigned to. It was still dark outside but as there was already some shuffling outside the door she guessed it wasn’t long until morning. The chamber was linked right to the kitchen which meant the room was filled with various scents and aromas all day long. Hermiones stomach started to growl. The staff always got the leftover food which meant that she would have to wait a bit longer until all students have eaten.

Hermione must have fallen asleep eventually, because when she woke up, the sun was already shining through the small window in the chamber. Did they actually let her sleep in? A feeling of guilt overcame her.

At last, she stood up and stretched her sore muscles, before quickly putting on her clothes and rushing to the door. She took a deep breath as she grabbed onto the doorknob and opened the door to her new life.

***

The hours before breakfast went by slowly, repeating the activities that had been assigned to her. It was nice to have a purpose again, even if it was one of no great significance. However, washing the dishes and sweeping the floor were only physical occupations and she often found herself drifting away in her thoughts.She felt trapped in her mind, as the same loop of questions played in her head over and over again.

Why was she in Hogwarts?

Why would she be placed here, of all possible places?

Could she somehow find out if Ron was here?

Could she contact him?

The occasional comments of Tip were the only thing keeping her sane. She was grateful to have someone to talk to again, even if it was only instructions and elf related gossip.

The kitchen was full of elves running around frantically and chattering in high pitched voices. A few muggleborns were looking very lost in the sea of elves, but were already moving through the kitchen with tasks, being very cautious not to knock over the little creatures.Those tasks mainly consisted of keeping the kitchen clean and not getting in the way of the house elves. The only problem was that none of the muggleborns had a wand, so their constant movement made the kitchen even more chaotic.

However, working with hands wasn’t as bad as Hermione expected it to be after years and years of quick and easy magic. It was, in a way, therapeutic to her. Having grown up in the muggle world she often found joy in the non-magical methods nowadays, as it reminded her of her parents and an easier time.

The atmosphere was buzzing with aromatic smells and clattering dishes and for the first time in a long time Hermione felt like she belonged.

„Miss, it‘s almost time for breakfast! Does Miss want to watch how it happens?“ The tiny voice of Tip sounded in her ears.

„Oh. Yes, I‘d like that very much,“ Hermione said, grateful to be included. She still had hardly talked to any of her other companions.

She had already read about how the kitchen in Hogwarts functions and had sneaked in there with Ron and Harry once or twice, but seeing it happen in person was another experience altogether. There were four large tables in the center of the kitchen where the elves placed the food, nicely decorated and with much love, then four elves standing at each table snapped their fingers and the food vanished into the Great Hall for the students to eat.

Hermione wondered, after the food had disappeared and everyone started working again, who would be sitting in the Great Hall right now, enjoying the delicious food. Would she know people there? Would there still be the same professors that teached her?

And especially if Ron was up there. Or if hewas still on the run, hiding from Death Eaters.

Draco Malfoy would be there, Hermione was sure. She recalled the tall, blonde figure she saw at the Hogsmead Station. The sole thought about him filled her with anger. She shook her head.

Hermione assumed that he must have a high social status among his classmates now, considering that Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange were part of Voldemorts inner circle. Malfoy was probably a Prefect taking advantage of his position by picking on first years and forcing people to act just the way he wants. Maybe he was even Head Boy. The more power the better.

She really did despise this boy.

***

Even though with all the work in the kitchen and Tip as a constant companion, Hermione was distracted most of the time, she still couldn’t quite shake the feeling of being on the run. The thought that she was in Hogwarts was slowly starting to sink in and made her feel safe and protected but it simultaneously made her very uneasy because she was so isolated from the outside. She had no idea what was going on beyond these doors and she still didn‘t know where Ron was.

Hermione was well aware that she should consider herself lucky to be stationed in a kitchen, no less a kitchen in Hogwarts. She knew that many muggleborns weren’t as fortunate. Most of them were probably enslaved by some Death Eater. She has heard rumors about Padma Parvati being captured right after the final battle by Walden McNair. No one has ever seen her since.

Hermione shuddered at the thought.

"Miss hands are shaking again, me has noticed," Tip said with his high voice. He appeared next to Hermione, a stack of dirty dishes floating behind him and settling on the counter. "Does Miss want to rest for a bit?"

Hermione glared down at her hands. She didn‘t even notice they were shaking.

"Oh- no, thank you, Tip but I’ll just carry on with my work," Hermione answered hastily. "I’m already slow and no one else here is ever taking a break."

"As Miss pleases," Tip said before turning away to continue his work.

Hermione looked after him curiously as he padded away on his small feet. Did he ever wonder what was happening right above their heads? Did he know that up there, nothing but darkness and misery was left?

Still deep in thought Hermione grabbed the stack of dirty plates from the counter and started carrying them over to the sink, when halfway there, she suddenly slipped on the freshly swept floor, losing her grip on the plates. As they loudly hit the ground they shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. Hermione was still able to catch herself and as she straightened up, she could feel the eyes of the entire kitchen on her.

"Bollocks," Hermione whispered angrily under her breath.

"I see you’re still getting used to your new tasks, Miss Granger," a familiar voice said, coming from the entrance door.

Hermione looked up. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

"Professor McGonagall!" Hermione said stunned, not sure how to react.

McGonagall was standing in the doorway, observing the mess Hermione made with an amused look on her face. The professor looked as warm as ever, standing tall in her elegant robes. Her hair was up in a tight knot and other than her tired eyes she looked just as Hermione remembered.

"I wanted to see you earlier Miss Granger, but you know, I have a tight schedule to keep."

“I am so sorry, Professor, I will clean this up as soon possible, it won‘t happen again- forgive me.”

The witch watched her carefully with condescending eyes.

"I- Professor- hasn’t the school- changed? Since Voldemort had won. I mean, isn’t it full of-"

"Death Eaters?" McGonagall completed her sentence. "It is indeed, Miss Granger which is why I had to plan this meeting very carefully. I won’t be available for too long, I’m afraid, but I still have to talk to you -"

The old witch was now eyeing the kitchen and Hermione realized that a few curious muggleborns were still watching them _._ Uncomfortable she quickly looked towards the ground.

"- in private, if possible," the witch finished, looking around the room, searching for a suitable place and then glancing towards the bedchamber.

Having no better options the professor sighed and started heading towards the chamber. „Follow me Miss Granger. And someone please clean up this mess,“ she shouted, glancing at the dishes still scattered on the ground.

And with that they approached the door, Hermione quickly following the tall woman.

"Oh, that’s a very plain bedroom, isn’t it?" McGonagall said as they entered the room, observing it with pitiful eyes. "And so many matresses, all in one room- must be very erm... crowded."

"I suppose so," Hermione answered awkwardly. "Professor, may I ask why you’re here? Or why _I’m_ here?" Hermione burst out.

"You are here, Miss Granger," McGonagall started, "because I _wanted_ you to be here. We’ve planned this rescue mission for several weeks now. I’m afraid it hasn’t worked out earlier but we had to be very careful while planning it. A lot has changed up there you know..."

"Sorry, Professor," Hermione interrupted, "but who is _we_?"

"Professor Snape, a few selected students and myself. You see, Miss Granger not many people know you’re here, which is why you have to be extremely careful."

"But _why_ am I here, _why_ did you put the school in such a danger to rescue me and the others, Professor?"

McGonagall was coming closer now, having a serious but also slightly concerned look on her face. "You are here, because you are an exceptional witch, Miss Granger. It would be a huge waste to just let you forget all your magic. See, I would love to give you more information already but I don‘t have much time. Just let me tell you that there are people out there who are still fighting against You-Know-Who, and if everything goes as planned I want you to be prepared."

"Prepared for what? It’s not like I can do anything down here, I can’t just wander around the castle..."

"Yes you can." the old witch answered. She held out a piece of fabric, which Hermione immediately recognized.

"The invisibility cloak?" Hermione asked surprised. She hasn’t seen the cloak since Harry died. "Where did you get that from, Professor? I thought it belonged to-"

"To Mister Potter, yes," the witch interrupted. "But after his death, it was given to the Dark Lord, who has given it to Severus. And Severus agreed with me that you should have it. You have more use for it than either of us."

Hermione felt slightly dizzy. She hasn’t talked to a familiar person in so long and now her former Professor just appeared to give her the cloak her best friend had owned since first year.

"But what do you want me to do with the cloak, I don’t understand how I would have any use for it, Professor."

The old witch looked at her with motherly eyes. "I want you to go to classes, Miss Granger," the witch said, eyeing her amused when she saw the incredulous look on Hermiones face."I want you to keep studying. A lot has changed and I need you do be aware of what is being teached now. Because if there will be a day where we fight back, eventually, we have to be prepared. The Dark Lord is in control of the school now, there will be a big change in the learning content."

"You don’t mean-"

"I do, Miss Granger, I am talking about Dark Arts. No other subject is being teached with such a focus on. The goal is to change people, to change their perception. Dark magic brings out the worst in people.”

She handed her the cloak and Hermione felt the familiar fabric underneath her fingertips. A memory flashed before her eyes, reminding her of the first time she touched the cloak, wandering around the castle with Harry and Ron and how frightened she was back then.

"When do you want me to start visiting classes?" She answered bravely.

McGonagall‘s expression changed, a small smile spreading across her lips and a proud look on her face. “You can start next week. You will only visit my classes for now. Consider it a test. If something happens there I would be able to get you out quickly. Unfortunately I cannot speak for all of my colleagues. But if everything works out you should be able to visit most of their classes as well."

Hermione was speechless. A week ago she was sure she’d end up as a slave for a Death Eater just like Padma has. Now she was able to finish school, at least in some way, to continue fighting, to do something good, to be with-

"Professor, one last question,” Hermione said quietly. "Is Ron here? I- I mean is he-" she almost whispered the last part.

"Mister Weasley is well and healthy, if everything works out you should be able to see him within the next few days," the old witch answered softly.

Hermione let out a relieved sigh, feeling as if a heavy weight has been lifted from her shoulders. She was suddenly filled with happiness.

Ron was here. He was alive. She would see him again.

"But Miss Granger, like I said, if the slightest thing goes wrong we are forced to put an end to this arrangement. And if that occurs I cannot promise anything.”

"I- I don’t know what to say, Professor," Hermione stuttered hastily. "I don’t know how I could thank you enough for-"

"Do not thank me, Miss Granger" the old witch interrupted. "I wouldn‘t have it any other way."

McGonagall suddenly looked at the large clock, which was hanging on the opposite side of the room. "I should go now, I have a meeting with a colleague in a few minutes."She headed towards the door, leaving Hermione standing in the middle of the room, the precious cloak in her hands.

"Oh, and Miss Granger," the old witch hesitated. Hermione looked up, wondering what would come next.

"I’m glad you‘re here. It’s good to have you back."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III.**

retrouvaille

_ /ʀ(ə)tʀuvɑ/ _

(n.) the joy of meeting or finding someone again after a long separation; rediscovery

Hermione had stuffed the cloak underneath her pillowcase, so every time she went to bed, she could feel the soft and silky fabric between her fingertips. Perhaps she could’ve thought of a better hiding place, but it made her feel safe, and clinging on to it in the nights helped her drift to sleep, so she risked it.

That morning was the first one in a very long time that she didn’t wake up drenched in sweat and distress. It was a strange feeling, not to be on alert all the time, but she could get used to it, she thought to herself.

Her newly assigned mission from McGonagall gave her a greater purpose and she felt herself quickly on her feet, stripping on her work clothes and heading towards the kitchen. She couldn’t wait to finally be able to join classes again and learn. Maybe she could even sneak out a book underneath her cloak. It’s been a while since she last opened a book that wasn’t a survival aid book or a map of cities and canalizations.

She shook her head as if trying to shake those memories off her mind.

Now wasn’t the time for the past.

Hermione pushed open the wooden door to the kitchen, and a wave of magical spices and herbs filled her senses.

The elves were all busy preparing the dishes and chattering to one another, and Hermione made her way through the masses, having to duck a few times to avoid getting hit by a flying vegetable.

"Miss! Tip is so glad to see Miss so early and refreshed. Did Miss have a good night of sleep?“ Tip waddled next to her.

"Yes actually, I did, thank you," Hermione replied politely, "I‘ll go do the dishes now."

Tip nodded affirmatively and Hermione continued heading towards the sink. She grabbed a potion labeled as diluted Bundimun Secretion on the way and put it on the counter. The entire time she felt a pair of eyes burning on her skin, but was too scared to see who it was. After all the last thing she needed right now was attention. So she decided to ignore it.

Hermione filled the sink with hot water before pouring in the potion and watchingas loads of pink bubbles emerged from the water. On the counter next to her a few kitchen utensils appeared, ready to be cleaned. It was quite early and breakfast wouldn’t start for another a few hours, so it wasn’t quite as hectic yet.

Over time plates started to appear and around midday there was a huge pile of dishes hovering next to her on the counter, and Hermione was struggling to keep up.

She started scrubbing a plate thoroughly, her thoughts drifting away, when suddenly a small boy appeared right next to her.

"Is McGonagall going to help you? Is she going to help you escape?," the high voice from the boy sounded next to her. Hermione turned her head to look at him, recognizing his face.

"You’re a Creevey, aren’t you?" Hermione asked gently, the memories of his elder brother Colin Ceevey replaying in her mind.

"I’m Dennis," the boy answered. He had short dark blonde, almost reddish hair and dark green eyes. Freckles covered his entire face. He reminded her so much of Colin.

Hermione had to smile.

"-but you didn’t answer my question," the small boy continued urgently. "If McGonagall has a plan, I wanna know, I wanna help."

Hermione sighed and turned towards the sink again, half-heartedly scrubbing the already clean plate. "Why do you want to keep fighting, Dennis? Do you have any idea what is going on out there-"

"I am more than aware, I’m not a child anymore you know, I know what’s going on in the world."

"How old are you Dennis?"

„I’m seventeen," the boy answered firmly.

Hermione had to swallow. That was the age his brother was killed in the war. She remembered Colin vividly from their second year. Always running around with his camera, trying to get a shot of Harry. Back then everything was so peaceful, now his little brother was standing in front of her, trying to avenge his dead brother.

Hermione lowered the plate into the bubbly sink, now turning completely to Dennis.

"I’m so sorry, Dennis, I’m sorry for everything.”

"Don’t apologize!" His voice was strained. "Just bloody answer my question! I have to know what’s going on. I- I wanna do something- I _need_ to do something-“

Her head was spinning in guilt.

"Colin, I- I can’t tell you. I promise I will if I can but right now we have to wait, do you understand?"

A painful look spread across his face before he grew even more furious, his eyes glistening in agony.

"I can‘t wait any longer!" He was now almost yelling, tears dwelling in his eyes. Hermione could feel the kitchen become quiet. Her cheeks began to burn.

"Leave her alone, Dennis," a female voice sounded from behind her, "don’t start to pull fights now, it’s not going to help anyone." The voice came from a blonde haired witch, she was maybe one or two years younger than her. She seemed familiar but Hermione couldn’t quite lay a finger on where she recognized her from.

Dennis seemed to snap out of a trance. His expression turned apologetic and he stumbled back a few steps, realizing how harsh he was.

"I- I‘m sorry,“ he looked down, „it‘s just- I feel like I‘m not doing enough. I feel so powerless.“

"But it’s not her fault, Dennis,“ the girl answered softly, eyeing him cautiously. They seemed to know each other, Colin looked up and nodded understandingly.

“I know,“ his voice was barely a whisper.

The girl pulled Hermione now gently away from the crowd. A few people had gathered around them, curious to see what was going on. Even a few elves had stopped working.

Tip started giving orders to the house elves, trying to turn the kitchen atmosphere back to normal.

"Don’t think about it too much. He’s been very tense these days- I mean we‘ve all been,“ the witch told her, leading her through the large room, her hand lingering on her back.

"Thank you for stepping in, I just didn‘t know what to tell him," Hermione said, feeling her head throb.

"Of course. It‘s a very weird time for all of us right now.“

"Tell me about it.“

They had now reached the workspace where the food was being chopped, a few vegetables for lunch were already laying on the counter, waiting to be cooked.Suddenly Hermione realized that she hasn’t even introduced herself to the unknown witch, "by the way, I’m Herm-"

"Hermione Granger, I know, everyone knows who you are," the witch giggled. "I’m Amanda Atkinson. Ravenclaw. Lovely to finally meet you, Hermione, even under these- difficult circumstances.”

"Right, nice to meet you, Amanda," Hermione answered with a small smile on her lips.

"You know, I think we’ve all been kind of- overwhelmed by you. I mean you’ve fought in the war beside _the_ Harry Potter and we just- oh-,“ realising what she just said, an apologetic look spread across her face. "I am so sorry, I shouldn’t have brought up his name, I-„

"It‘s okay.“ Hermione lied, a lump forming in her throat.

Amanda seemed to sense her struggle and quickly tried to change the subject.

"Anyway, don‘t work yourself up over Dennis, he didn‘t mean it like that.“

Hermione swallowed, a grateful smile spreading across her lips.

"I feel bad for him, I wish I could help but there‘s just nothing we can do down here."

"Well, we just have work with what we have at the moment and it looks like we only have a few elves and muggleborns and-" She looked towards the workspace with vegetables spread all over it. "-and apparently some carrots and onions.” Amanda started to giggle and Hermione couldn’t help but join in.

Suddenly Amanda stopped laughing and a serious expression appeared on her face, her eyes focused on the opposite side of the kitchen. Hermione turned around confused, wondering what could have wiped the smile off Amanda’s face.But as soon as she saw the cause, the corner of her mouth lifted upwards again.

McGonagall was standing in the doorway, her eyes on Hermione.

"Go on, Hermione," Amanda said, while pushing her gently towards the door. "Get out of this bloody kitchen, it might be important."

She might be able to see Ron today.

"Good morning, Professor, what brings you down here, is everything alright?“

"Everything is alright, Miss Granger," the old witch answered. "I just wanted to check on our new help and make sure there at no difficulties but to my impression everything is going smoothly down here." Hermione noticed her voice was unusually loud, as if she wanted to make sure everyone knew why she was coming down to the kitchen.

Then McGonagall continued in an very quiet and low voice, now only talking to Hermione, "I will leave the kitchen now, Miss Granger and it would be very inappropiate if you were to get your cloak and follow me... let me say three minutes after I left. Make sure no one’s seeing you leave the kitchen." McGonagall let her eyes wander over the kitchen one last time, before she turned on her heel and walked out of the door.

A warm sensation filled Hermiones body. _Finally_ , she thought.

As she walked back towards Amanda, she tried to straighten her facial expressions and not seem too happy. She felt Dennis Creevey’s eyes on her, watching her carefully.

"What’d she say?" Amanda asked as soon as Hermione had reached her.

"Nothing, she just wanted to make sure everything is working down here. Must be a lot of pressure knowing she’s responsible for all of us," a cheeky grin spread on her face. Hermione noticed that she lied without even flinching. But she was used to it. Being best friends with Harry Potter for all those years, these kind of things came easily to her.

"Oh- all right then. Yeah, you’re right, it probably is." Amanda laughed, she had obviously hoped for something more.

Hermione hated lying.

"I’m just gonna go use the bathroom"

"Sure, will I talk to you later?"

Hermione smiled. "Yes, I’ll see you then,“ she answered, watching Amanda turn around and return to her tasks.

She headed towards the toilets, right next to their bed chamber.

Stopping in front of the door to the bathroom, Hermione looked around making sure Amanda wasn‘t watching her and then quickly stepped towards the bedchamber, slipping through the door.

Inside, after making sure no one was in there she walked towards her bed, pulled out the invisibility cloak from under the pillow and threw it over herself.

The fabric was light as a feather and it felt pleasantly familiar. She had been under the cloak countless of times with Harry and Ron. Now the cloak seemed too big, it felt empty being alone under there.

It was actually quite difficult wandering through the kitchen without running into someone, especially not an elf, they buzzed around the room in chaos like a swarm of bees.

Only when she finally reached the door and stepped out into the hallway, Hermione noticed that she had been holding her breath the entire time. Backed up against the door she closed her eyes and gasped for air, letting herself calm down.When she opened her eyes she was taken aback. It was the first time seeing a familiar part of Hogwarts and for a few seconds she just stood there, trying to absorb the familiar beauty of the large hallway. The air smelled just like she remembered, like parchment and ink. So many memories were rushing through her mind and for a moment she forgot why she was here.

"Miss Granger?" A voice whispered next to her.

Hermiones heart collapsed, she had completely forgotten that McGonagall was waiting for her.

She quickly checked if the hallway was deserted, before she dared to answer quietly, "I’m here, Professor, I’m sorry I-"

"Follow me and be quiet," the witch answered shortly.

Hermione followed quietly, she was still overwhelmed by the castle and its beauty, even though some parts were still very damaged from the battle. They’d passed a part of the hallway where a big hole covered the brick wall. Pleasing, fresh September air hit Hermione‘s skin through the thin fabric of the cloak as she looked outside, watching the forbidden forest lay peacefully in the beautiful landscape Hogwarts is surrounded by. It looked a bit darker and scarier than usual, glowing with dark magic. Hermione did not dare to stop, so she kept moving.

She quickly realized that McGonagall was taking her to her office. Hermione recognized the way immediately as she had been there countless of times before, when she got in trouble with Harry and Ron or from her daily Prefect routes in fifth year.

They were almost at the office, when a voice sounded from behind them.

"Ah, McGonagall, I’ve been looking for you, a word please," a loud voice said from behind them. She had heard it before, somewhere.The witch turned around, her face similar to a mask, showing not a single emotion.Hermione turned around as well.

A tall man walked towards them, his hair dark brow, almost black, falling into his eyes. His walk was bouncy and he took long steps, dark purple robes expanding behind him.

It was Bartemius Crouch Jr.

"Right now is not very suitable, Crouch, I have a meeting with a student in a few minutes."

"Oh no worries, Minerva, I’ll make it quick," the man said, an empty smile on his lips. "I just wanted to notify you that Miss Benton will not attend your lessons tomorrow as she has earned a full day of detention. This morning she has refused to participate in my class _again_ and as she continues to resist my methods, I will need the entire day to discipline her.”

McGonagall opened her mouth to say something but quickly closed it again. "It would be quite alright to leave that to me, Crouch. I will take care of it, I have known her a longer time than you have and I know how-"

"No, no, Minerva don’t worry about it. It is my duty, the Dark Lord trusts me."

A small sigh escaped her lips but she nodded. „Thank you for notifying me."

Crouch had a small, arrogant smile on his lips, well aware that he was superior to McGonagall. Hermione studies him closely, when he turned on his heel to walk away. But then— after a few steps— he turned around again, as if he sensed something in the air, as if he could feel her presence. Hermione’s entire body tensed as well as McGonagall’s.

He raised his eyebrows and asked in a soft, almost tender voice "is there anything you’d like to inform me about, Minerva?"

Hermione didn’t dare to breathe, her eyes now focused on her former teacher.

"No, not at all, Crouch. If you would excuse me now, I have a meeting to attend." McGonagall said without flinching.

"Alright, Minerva. Alright," Crouch answered the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. "Very good."

They turned around walking in opposite directions, Hermione quickly following McGonagall. She looked back one last time, watching him as he turned the corner, a bad feeling in her stomach.

As McGonagall walked through her office door, her lips formed a thin line and she seemed paler than before. Hermione quickly followed her, anxious to not make a sound. Only when the tall woman had closed the wooden door behind her, she finally dared to exhale.

The office seemed smaller and darker than the last time she’d been in here. The whole atmosphere seemed to be stuck in a dull, bleak afternoon.

Hermione shivered.

"You can take off the cloak now, Miss Granger. No one is going to interrupt us in here, you’re safe," McGonagall said, while walking through the room and around the big, dark wooden desk, which was standing in front of a large window. An enchanted feather was swiftly writing away on a parchment, the scratching sound of it filling the quiet room. Grayish light was falling through the windows, making it seem even more dreary.

Hermione let the cloak gently glide off her head, before folding it in her arms.

"I wasn’t aware Barty Crouch was a teacher now, Professor," Hermione said, eyes still wandering through the office. "I was under the impression he had gone mad."

"Barty Crouch is indeed mad, Miss Granger, but this is what makes him so useful for the Dark Lord," the old witch answered, her expressions still very tense. "Crouch is like a mad dog and the only person he obeyes is the Dark Lord. If he would command Crouch to burn down the entire school, he would do it without flinching. This is what makes him so unpredictable, Miss Granger."McGonagall exhaled, suddenly she seemed a good ten years older. She looked grey like the entire room they were standing in.

"But he would hardly command him to do such thing, would he Professor? Volde-"

"No, Miss Granger!" the old witch shouted quickly, her eyes widened. "The _taboo_ , Miss Granger! _Do not say his name_."

"I- the taboo? It’s not still on his name, is it?"

"It is indeed. One could call the Dark Lord quite _manic_. The Death Eater work very thoroughly. They still think there are fellow Order members out there, like you. They want to capture every single one."

Hermione swallowed, now feeling a lump in her throat. She wasn’t aware the taboo was still intact. "Why did you bring me here, Professor? If anything happened, you should tell me now."

McGonagall was looking at her for a second, as if trying to remember herself why Hermione was standing in her office. Her face was covered by a large shadow and as the grey light coming from behind her was being reflected by her shimmering robes, playful patterns of light were created on the walls.

"You’re not here because anything has happened, Miss Granger. I just think it is time for you to talk to someone. I saw that you’ve already made a friend down there but I think you will be glad to see a few familiar faces."

"Isn’t it- dangerous if more people know that I’m here?"

McGonagall was now walking around the large wooden desk again, towards the door. Hermione felt her entire body tense and she had to ignore the urge to pull the cloak over herself again, as McGonagall’s hand was resting on the doorknob, about to open the door.

"Oh, I’m sure _these_ people will not put you in any danger."

As soon as the door opened, a tall, red-headed girl started running towards her, pulling her into a tight hug, her long hair all over Hermione’s face.

"Ginny?," Hermione whispered in her hair,not sure if she was dreaming.

"Hermione," the young witch said softly, a voice Hermione hadn’t heard in months. "I thought I would never see you again, no one knew where you were. We tried multiple spells to try and locate you but nothing worked... then McGonagall told us about the rescue mission a while ago, but we still weren’t allowed to see you. Oh Hermione! Im so glad, so, so glad!”

Her head still in Ginnys hair, Hermione looked up to see Neville and Luna standing in the doorframe, big smiles covering their faces.

"Luna, Neville," Hermione breathed out, on the verge of tears. Ginny let go of her, stepping away.

Now Luna was embracing her tightly and a grateful tear rolled down Hermione‘s cheek. Even Neville, awkward as he was, slowly crept towards them and put his arms around them.

McGonagall cleared her throat.

The group looked up to see Professor McGonagall still standing beside the doorframe, eyeing them with a small smile on her lips. Hermione felt her cheeks glow.

"I’ll leave you to it, I can give you roughly an hour. You don’t need to worry, you’ll be safe in here," she says, right before stepping out of the small office, leaving the newly reunited group alone to reconnect.

Hermione looked at her friends closely, searching for any visible changes but not able to find any besides a pale look on their thin faces. But lately every person she encountered wore that same tired look.

"Where were you, Hermione?" Luna asked after a few seconds of silence.

"Yeah, where did you hide? You have to tell us everything." Neville joined.

"Are you hurt?" Ginny asked quickly, eyeing Hermione up and down, searching for scars or bruises. Her face was tense, a strained look of worry laying in her eyes.

"Well after the battle was over, Ron dragged me out of there, into the Forbidden Forest, we-" That’s when Hermione realized that he wasn’t there. Ron wasn‘t there.

"Ron, where-"

"He’s fine," Neville interrupted quickly. "I think he‘s got a meeting with Umbridge, he couldn’t reschedule it, it would‘ve been suspicious."

"Oh. Alright..." Hermione trailed off, then realising that her friends were waiting for her to continue. They had a curious but also sad look lingering on their faces.

"So like I said, we ran through the Forbidden Forest which was kind of stupid because it was still full of dark magical creatures. But luckily they didn’t see us, they were still celebrating their triumph.

That first day was the worst one, we ran for hours. We started following the train tracks, they were giving us a sense of direction and were our only orientation. By dawn we had found a hiding place. From then on we changed our location every two days but even that still wasn’t enough, they nearly captured us at least five times. It was always so close.

Then one night they got Ron. We tried to escape together but the Death Eaters separated us and lead us into different directions. I heard Ron scream but I couldn’t turn around, I had to keep running. Then they were gone.

After that I’ve been alone. I had broken my wand while running and it got harder and harder to find suitable locations to stay in. It was difficult to guard the place alone and without my wand it was almost impossible to stay alive. I guess after a while I’ve gotten less careful and another group of Death Eaters captured me.

They stunned me and put me in this train with all the other muggle borns. I’ve been in there for a few days probably but eventually the train started moving. It was the Hogwarts Express but I only figured it out afterwards. Well, I lost my sense of time so I had no idea that it was September 1st.

And now I’m in the kitchen with the house elves."

Hermione stopped, feeling relieved to finally get it off her chest.

"Yeah about that-" Neville said, a small smile on his lips. "You have quite an impressive right-hander, Hermione. My stomach had been hurting for days."

Hermione looked at him wide-eyed, "That was _you_? But Neville, are you really a-"

"No, I’m not. No worries, it was just a costume," he interrupted quickly.

"So, all this time I was completely safe and you didn‘t _tell_ me?"

"We had to be very careful, McGonagall had given us strict instructions. She was working with us on the rescue mission during the entire summer. We’re still trying to discover more muggleborns but it’s difficult. Anyway, they wanted most of us to stay in Hogwarts during the holiday. They technically wanted to re-educate all of us, trying to change our beliefs and what not. We had to act up during supervision studies nearly every week so McGonagall could give us 'detention',“ he air quoted with his fingers. "She ended up bringing us to the forest where Ron had been found in the hope of you still being around and well- we were lucky."

"So you’ve captured Ron? Why didn’t you get me as well, why did you have to separate us?" Hermione asked still confused.

"Well- see, erm-," Neville stuttered, eyes on the floor. "That wasn’t us, he’s been caught by _real_ Death Eaters, apparently one of you had said the taboo."

Hermione stared at him, trying to comprehend what he was saying.

"Then how is he in Hogwarts?"

"Well," Ginny answered, "we don’t really know what happened to him, he... he doesn‘t talk about it. I think he got put into some institution controlled by Umbridge, but that‘s all we know."

A cold silence spread in the room. A million questions were flowing through the air, not dared to be asked. Hermione didn‘t know what to say. Suddenly she was filled with worry. What if he had changed? What if they got into his head? She couldn‘t lose Ron. She couldn‘t lose another person to the Dark Lord.

The atmosphere in the room grew painful and Hermione shifted uncomfortably. Luna noticed her inner struggle, breaking the silence immediately and changing the subject. "So you work in the kitchen now? With the elves?" She asked in her usual dreamy voice.

"Yeah, and a few other muggle borns. It’s very chaotic in there, I don’t really know what to do most of the time."

"Too bad we can’t go down there anymore," Luna answered disappointed, the others were looking towards the ground as well.

Just then Hermione realized that she had indeed never seen another witch or wizard in the kitchen besides McGonagall. "Why can’t you come into the kitchen? It was never forbidden back then," Hermione said curiously.

"See..." Ginny said slowly, as if she was unsure how to put it. "Things have... _changed_ over the summer. They don’t let us go anywhere, not even Hogsmeade. Hogwarts is not like you used to know it Hermione, it’s- it’s different. The entire system has changed, the _people_ have changed."

A few seconds of silence passed before Hermione dared to ask the question that had been nagging at the back of her mind for the last couple of days. "How bad is it?"

There was another long silence before Neville answered, "It’s like a constant surveillance. They watch you— all of them. If there are no teachers around, then the prefects or headboys and -girls take over. We have to go to classes in large groups and they banned the houses. It’s neither Gryffindor nor Ravenclaw, not even Slytherin. Now everyone is just considered a follower. They want all of us to be completely obedient and if you resist they will punish you. But- erm- not with detention. They’ve found... _other_ methods to make you stay quiet."

Hermione tried to process the newly gained knowledge, still trying to comprehend it to its fullest. "What do you mean with _other methods_ , Neville?"

Neville stayed silent, his eyes on the ground. Luna answered, her voice even more quiet than usual, "Romilda Vane had been crucified by Crouch in the first week of term because she sneaked out of the grounds one night. It wasn’t long but long enough to keep Romilda silent for a whole week."

Hermione felt sick. She had imagined that it was bad but this was worse than anything she had ever dared to imagine. She started picking on her nailbed.

Ginny cleared her throat interrupting the heavy silence. "Anyway, it’s good to have you back ‘Mione."

Hermione looked up, still feeling nauseous and unsteady but as she saw the familiar faces of her friends looking back at her, faint but reassuring smiles painted over their lips, she couldn’t help but smile as well. It was a broken smile but at least it was a smile. A beginning.

She spread her arms to show her friends that she needed to hug them again and they gladly fell back into a warm embrace. It still felt surreal to actually touch all of them.

"Am I interrupting the big reunion?"

Startled, the group fell apart, their heads all turning towards the door.

There, in the doorway to the small office stood Ron, a wide grin spread across his face, looking only at Hermione.

Their eyes locked like magnets and for a few seconds they just stood there, breathlessly gazing into each other‘s eyes, the rest of the world shut off.

 _It was only them_.

Ron opened his arms and Hermione didn’t hesitate running towards him. He pulled her into him, tightly holding onto her, his face pressed into her shoulder. He let out a deep sigh and she felt his hot breath tickling on her skin. Hermione let her fingers wander over his back, across his neck and into his hair, feeling the soft locks on her fingertips. He still felt the same. And he still smelled like toothpaste and pergament. Maybe nothing has changed after all.

"Ron," she said breathlessly.

She had him back. She had Ron back.

Tears started welling up in her eyes, a few rolling down her cheeks. "I was so worried, I thought you were dead, I was so scared Ron- so, so scared...“ She whispered quietly into his ear.

Ron pulled away to look into her eyes. She quickly lowered her head, quietly sniffling at the ground when he lifted her head by her chin, studying her face carefully. He wiped away a tear, cupping Hermione‘s head in his hands. "It‘s okay ‘Mione, it’s alright, I’m here now, it’s okay." She felt her breath become more steady and her tears slowly stopped falling.

They started to return to reality, becoming aware of the presence of their friends.

Ron looked up, facing Neville, Luna and Ginny. "Sorry I’m late to the party, Snape made me duel Theodore Nott. Bloody brick, this man. I lost, but it was very close, I’ll get him next time."

"I thought you had a meeting with Umbridge," Hermione asked confused.

"Oh uh- no that was after lunch. I uh- missed the beginning of Snape’s lesson, that‘s why I had to stay after class and duel Nott."

"Why did he make you duel Nott anyway, he usually refuses to practice with any other than Zabini or Malfoy," Ginny asked curiously.

"Well, I was supposed to be duelling Malfoy but he excused himself in the last second, being the coward that he is. Said he felt nauseous or something like that, had to go to Pomfrey immediately."

"He’s hardly afraid to fight you, Ron," Neville said skeptically. "He’s still by far the best at dueling."

Ron grimaced, looking more hurt than he should. "I’ll get him soon anyway, I’m convinced I’m getting better by day."

Hermione listened to the sound of his voice attentively, trying to soak in every sound and every breath. But she couldn’t help but feel that Ron seemed slightly different. Not in the way he looks or smells but in the way he behaves and talks. She quickly pushed that thought aside when she felt herself scratching the skin off of her finger.

She did not stop.

"How is it they allowed you to just come back and visit classes, Ron?" Hermione asked, suddenly aware of the odd circumstances.

"Um, they wanted me back because I’m still a pure blood. I suppose the Dark Lord wanted to keep the remaining, no matter what they did or how outspoken their support for— for Harry was. It’s important to the Dark Lord to have the sacred 28 on his side. So they keep a close look on all of us," Neville and Ginny nodded slowly, attentively avoiding Hermione‘s eyes. "They give us an extra amount of work as well, but it’s not like we have a choice anymore."

Hermione shivered. Hearing Ron say that there was no point in fighting anymore, to give up, to just accept their circumstances broke her heart. Harry would have never let him say something like this, he would have tried to convince him that they could find a way out.

Hermione’s entire body tensed at the thought of her dead friend. It hit her just now how bizarre the sight of the five of them reunited is, without her best and oldest friend. A feeling of heavy guilt slowly filled up her body.

Just then the heavy wooden door opened and McGonagall entered the room, face stiff and serious. "I‘m sorry to interrupt but you have to head back to your dorms now," she said apologetically, "the bed checks will begin soon."

Hermione wondered when they introduced the procedure of checking the dorms. She wasn’t surprised but it shocked her every time hearing how much Hogwarts has changed.

McGonagall hastily wrote something on a piece of parchment while continuing talking to them, "if someone stops the four of you and asks where you’ve been you’ll tell them that you’ve been helping me clean my office, I’ll write you a separate note, Miss Lovegood," the old witch said while handing them two small notes. "I’ll make sure Miss Granger arrives safely in the kitchen."

The five of them were now heading towards the door, all of them pulling Hermione into a last hug goodbye. "We‘ll see you again," Ginny assured firmly, as she stepped outside into the hallway. As Ron embraced her warmly, he whispered into her ear, "I’ll come down as soon as I can, I promise." A warm sensation filled Hermiones body, glad to know that she’ll see him again soon.

He let go of her and left the office, turning around one last time and waving at her.

It was only her and McGonagall now. The Professor closed her eyes, exhaling deeply, as if a lot of tension was laying on her shoulders.

"We should get going as well, Miss Granger. We don‘t want to risk you being caught."

Hermione nodded, grabbing the invisibility cloak that was laying on the desk and followed McGonagall out of her office, into the dark and dreary hallway.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Mature Content*

**Chapter IV**

lethologica

/ˌliθəˈlɑdʒəkə/

(n.) when you think of something but the word for it escapes you

Hermione spent the next few days waiting.She waited for hours and hours on end, every minute of it feeling longer than the last. Whenever the door to the kitchen opened her heart skipped a beat hoping to see Ron, only to watch another elf walk through. Time seemed to move slower than usual and she felt herself fall apart from frustration.

She was aware that Ron wouldn’t instantly visit her. It was dangerous for him to come down to the kitchens. Not only would he risk Hermione getting caught, but he would threaten the discovery of all the muggleborns and therefore the whole mission.

But now that she had met her friends and got a taste of their company, it was dreadful to fall back into her daily routine in the kitchen. Her time spent in the kitchen was pleasant and Hermione was glad to help but she was incredibly lonely. Even Tip’s cooking commentary and Amanda’s attempts to start a conversation couldn’t distract her of her desperate longing for her friends. Her mind was constantly occupied by Ron and his promise to come visit her as soon as possible.

And he did keep his promise; he came three days after their reunion.

It was already dark in the kitchen and Hermione heard everyone quietly snoring in the large bedroom next door. She was still sitting at the wooden table in the kitchen, a sole candle lighting up the small space. She had sat in that same exact spot for the last few days after every shift, watching the door, waiting.

When he finally poked his face through the door gap and slowly tiptoed towards her in the barely lit kitchen, Hermione felt like her fifteen year old self again, butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

She couldn’t help but throw herself into his arms. It felt almost surreal to see him down there, as if two completely opposing parts of her life collided.

After holding each other for a few minutes to make up for the lost time, they fell into deep conversation. Hermione tried to get him to talk about his time in the institution but he kept changing the subject. Instead, he told her all about the school and how it had changed; how Snape was teaching Dark Arts, Crouch Potions and Umbridge Charms. He told her about his classes and the next few events. Apparently a ball was coming up.

But she couldn‘t concentrate, the mention of Crouch brought back the memories of their encounter. How he came strutting up the hallway, how warily he walked through the castle, searching every inch of it as if he was sensing that something was odd, that Hermione was standing barely a meter away from him. It filled her with worry. Her thoughts wandered back to Luna telling her how he had crucified a girl for wandering off the grounds. She didn’t dare to imagine what he’d do to her if he ever caught her under the cloak.

But Hermione couldn’t hide away forever, she knew she had to go to classes eventually.

She needed to go. Even if it wasn’t for her or McGonagall or Ron. She would do it for Harry.

The thought of seeing Ron in classes made her insides twist. It seemed so familiar and yet so strange that it broke her heart. She just couldn’t imagine him adapting to the same system they all tried to fight off just a few months ago.

"-have you heard ‘Mione?" Ron’s soft voice pulled her away from her thoughts.

Hermione looked at him, blinking a few times before understanding what he meant.

"I- Yeah, sure Ron," Hermione said, a small smile on her lips. Ron had been telling her very passionately about how good he had gotten at Dark Arts, and how Snape seemed to slowly trust him. Afterwards he always quickly added how they would use this in their advantage, but she began to doubt his intentions.

It was strange hearing him talk about school with such a childlike excitement in his voice. It always used to be her who got excited whenever they would start a new topic in potions or when she mastered a difficult transfiguration. But now Ron seemed to enjoy all that school work— he was almost _obsessed_ even _,_ and Hermione started wondering if he even knew what he was fighting for— which _side_ he was fighting for.

"Do you sometimes think about Harry?" Hermione asked, her voice nothing more than a whisper and her eyes stiffly focused on the wooden desk in front of her.

She felt how she slowly started to pick on her nailbeds again, crimson blood congregating under her nails.

Ron didn’t seem to notice.

"—Do I— what?" Ron seemed taken aback, apparently he wasn‘t expecting to hear his name. "Of course, I do, ‘Mione, I— every single day."

"Do you think you’re still fighting for him? For his values and beliefs, I mean."

"Of course, what do you think I’m doing, Hermione?" Ron answered slightly angry now. "Do you think it’s easy to see all of those faces up there? Malfoy, Zabini, Nott, Parkinson? How complacent all of them are? I have to run with it Hermione— I have to play along, do you think that’s easy?"

"No— no Ron, I’m sorry..." Hermione stuttered, suddenly feeling really drained. "It’s just— I’m caught in here, I feel like I’m useless, so unbelievably useless." She covered her face with her hands, trying to sort out her thoughts, the heat of the candle warming her hands. Just then, she felt Ron put his arms over her, his fingers gently stroking her upper arm and his eyes lingering on the side of her face. "I don’t want to fight, ‘Mione—" Hermione turned her head, returning his gaze— he looked so young in the warm, flickering candle light. "We already fight way too much, do you remember in third year? When we didn’t talk to each other for three months?" A grin spread over his face and Hermione couldn’t help but to smile as well. "That was cruel, Ronald," she chuckled, recalling her childhood.

Suddenly Ron moved closer, his thigh pressed against hers and he placed his lips gently against her cheek, before slowly moving towards her lips.

"I don’t want to lose you, ‘Mione—" Ron whispered against her lips, his hot breath gently striking her cheeks.

"I can’t loose you—"

He softly pecked her nose —

"— not again, I can’t be here without you—"

— and then moved to her lips again.

"We’re going to get through this together. We’re a team—"

He kissed her, their first kiss in months.

_"—for Harry."_

And Hermione kissed him back, suddenly wide awake, craving his lips, his voice, his touch. She leaned in, trying to get closer to him, to diminish any space left between them. They melted into each other’s arms, the tight embrace warming their bodies.

But Hermione couldn‘t shake off the feeling of losing him. He was so close, yet so far away. No matter how tight she held him, he seemed to slip out of her fingers and no matter how near she drew, she didn’t seem to reach him. It felt like they were running into two different directions, slowly disappearing into the distance, losing each other with every step.

Hermione ignored that thought and pushed it far into the back of her mind.

"Silencio," he whispered against her lips.

Just then, Ron got to his feet, his lips still connected with hers. He pulled her up as well and led her backwards through the room, until she felt the door to the small storage room press against her back.

He kept kissing her, grabbing her waist and pulling her close to him. Their bodies were squeezed together— longing for closeness, longing for some kind of normality.

"I missed you so much," she whispered.

"Don’t ever leave me again you idiot—"

A breathy chuckle escaped his lips.

Suddenly a clattering sound echoed through the darkness of the kitchen, interrupting the silence of the room. Ron spinned around looking for the source of the sound, his eyes examaning the kitchen. They were still for a few seconds, listening to the silence.

"It was probably nothing," Hermione said, her mind blurred, still filled with lust.

After a few moments, he nodded, turning around and looking into her eyes. As he shifted, Hermione felt his bulge pressing against her waist.

Suddenly a very strong yearning overtook her body and she felt herself stumbling into the storage room pushing Ron against the wall, causing the brooms to fall over. She wanted to take control, wanted to have control over _something._

"What’re you doing ‘Minoe?" Ron asked breathlessly.

"I want this, Ron." Hermione answered quietly. "I was so alone, for such a long time..."

Ron gently stroke her hair, placing it behind her ear, like he always used to do while they were on the run.

"I’m with you now, it’s okay," Ron whispered. Then something in his eyes changed. They turned dark blue, filled with desire and lust.

He grabbed her face, switching their positions and pushed Hermione against the cold brick wall. He towered over her, looking into her eyes for a few seconds before connecting their lips again. He pushed his knee up between her legs causing Hermione to gasp in surprise, an unknown feeling spreading through her body.

She felt Ron‘s hands slowly sliding up her shirt, playing with the back of her bra and clipping it open. He caressed her back underneath the loose fabric, then started to move his hands towards her chest.

"Hermione,“ he moaned, his eyes shut, "I’ve waited so long for this. For you.“ He breathed onto her lips.

Seeing Ron so desperate and so weak made her smile. She wanted to make him feel good, to make him moan her name into the quiet of the storage room. She started unbuttoning his uniform, her hands moving over his bare chest, feeling his muscles tense with every touch. She lowered her hand, gliding over the waistband of his pants and then grabbed his buldge, squeezing it. She studied his face, watching the affect each touch had on him. He had his eyes squeezed shut and his eyebrows furrowed, as if to hold in a moan.

Hermione slowly sank to her knees, hesitant in her movements but sure of her feelings. She knew she wanted this, she had wanted this for too long. She fumbled around with his belt, struggling to open it, when Ron impatiently shoved her hand aside to open it himself.

He pushed down his pants, exposing the bulge underneath his boxers. She softly touched the waistband, pulling it down.

"Ron, you know I’ve never-"

"It’s okay, Mione... I’ll- you’ll be fine... just- just do it..."

She grabbed his cock, gently brushing over it and then wrapping her mouth around his length, sliding her tongue against the tip.

"Oh god, yes-"

He grabbed the back of her head pushing himself even deeper into her throat and fiercely thrusting his hips forward.

She touched his inner thighs, slowly moving upwards again and then gently placed her fingers around his cock. Overwhelmed with uncertainty but also eager to give him pleasure Hermione rubbed her hands against him making him whimper.

"I-I think I’m almost there ‘Mione- let‘s try something else, alright?"

Ron pulled her up to her feet and quickly pushed down her pants. Before Hermione could respond, Ron had already pulled up her leg and shoved himself inside her.

She heard herself gasp, suddenly filled with an unknown feeling, a painful pressure overcoming her entire body.

"Are you- my god, yes- are you alright Hermione?" Ron asked breathlessly.

Hermione didn’t know how to respond. A rush of adrenaline caused a shiver to run down her body. She pressed her eyes shut, enjoying the weird and new sensation.

Ron‘s hands slid down her back, reaching her bottom. He grabbed her cheek and lifted her up to him, pressing his lips against hers.

"Faster Ron- just- just a bit," she gasped into his mouth.

“No, 'Mione- I- I can’t I- oh my god-"

Ron let out a long moan, his whole body leaning against her in relief. His head dropped down on her shoulder. She could feel the entire tension leave his body.

He let out a breath. „Bloody hell... that was so good.“

Hermione stood with her back against the wall, out of breath and feeling very cloudy.

"Yeah...“ Hermione hesitated.

"Did you... you know-" Ron started while pulling up his trousers and closing his belt. "Did you come?”

"I- if I- oh, yes, sure- sure I did," she stuttered while trying to pull up her slip.

Ron looked relieved, his checks still slightly red.

"You know, I’m so glad Mione," he said, now occupied with the buttons of his shirt. "I was afraid it would be kind of weird, you know? I mean, we’ve know each other since we were eleven. I was scared something might break if we took this step.”

He was now fully dressed and made a step towards Hermione.

"But I’m glad you got to experience it with me," his hands gently pressing against her cheeks. "It’s supposed to be special, isn’t it?"

Hermione looked at him wide-eyed, not quite sure if she understood correctly.

"You’re glad _I got to experience it with you_? What do you mean, weren’t you- wasn’t it the first time for you as well?"

Ron’s cheeks got even redder, his mouth slowly opened as if he wanted to say something but no sound came out.

"I- that doesn’t matter now, does it? That happened like years ago. It wasn’t important, I had no feelings for her, I-"

"Who was it, Ron?"

"Like I said, it doesn’t-"

"Who was it, Ronald?"

Suddenly his whole posture changed. He looked at her with apologetic eyes.

"Lavender."

"Lavender Brown?"

"Yeah- I mean- I was drunk and she was there, you know- I didn’t like her- at least not like that. I mean, I did _kind of_ like her but obviously-"

"It‘s okay, Ron," Hermione quickly interrupted. "It’s okay- I mean sure it is. But I- You could have-"

"I don’t care about her, Hermione-" Ron said hastily, grabbing her waist again.

"-I only care about you. You gotta believe me! Merlin, I can’t even describe how happy I am to finally have you back-" he was now full on hugging her, leaning his head on her shoulder.

"-I kept thinking about you _all the time_. It drove me insane not knowing if you were alive-" his voice sounded sincere, as if he was on the verge of tears. Hermione just wanted him to stop talking.

"It’s okay Ron, really, stop. I know how it feels, I- I’m happy to have you back too."

Ron looked at her and Hermione really did see tears shimmering in his eyes. He smiled at her with the same look he had in first year. She returned the smile.

"I really missed you, 'Mione," he said.

"I know, I did too."

He looked down at his watch, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"I gotta go now, need’a get some hours of sleep. I’ve got a meeting with Snape tomorrow before classes," he said while trying to fix his hair. „You know, I’m starting to get pretty decent at Dark Arts. I would’ve never expected it but I’m almost on top of the class. Malfoy’s still the best though but I’ll beat him, just wait and see."

He hastily kissed her on the cheek, before he quickly left the storage room. He looked back once again, and waved before he left through the entrance door.

Hermione, however, stood in the doorway for a few moments, carefully watching for any movements in the kitchen, making sure she was alone, before heading towards the bathroom.

There was a painful soreness between her legs and she tried to remove the blood from her slip as good as she could. And now for the first time, she properly realized what had just happened.

She had lost her virginity to Ron.

Countless of times had she thought about it— wishing for it. She had been certain that she wanted to do it, that he was the right one.

Then why did she feel so unsatisfied?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finallyyyyy some Draco content for you

**Chapter V.**

eccedentesiast

(.n) someone who hides pain behind a smile

****

It was pitch black in the room, only a faint, blue glimmer of light coming from the kitchen, making it‘s way through the door gap on the other side of the chamber. Hermione didn’t even notice when it appeared, only becoming aware of it when her eyes started to make out the outlines of the brickwork on the ceiling she had been staring at for the past few hours. She felt heavy, as if the weight of the whole world pressed onto her, pushing her deep into the mattress. A feeling of shame and remorse filled her, as she played that night’s events over and over in her head. It made her stomach twist in guilt. She shouldn’t feel that way.

Every few seconds Hermione slipped away, deep into thought, only to be pulled out of it by the quiet raindrops on the small window, reminding her how slowly the night was passing. She had been thinking — searching for reasons and for answers to questions she didn‘t have.

Maybe it was the location or the circumstances or the timing or the brooms. Maybe it was the elves sleeping in the room next door or maybe it was the unromantic, dark, small storage room they were in. Maybe it was the quick manner of it, rushing to get it over with. Or maybe it was her high expectations that made it feel so strange. Maybe it was her inexperience that prevented her from fully experiencing it. She had heard of that before — remembered how Padma had mentioned something like that a few years ago in the girls dormitory. Maybe that was it. Maybe it was just her.

She wondered what Ron was thinking. He seemed alright when he left. But Ron usually doesn’t form a single thought about these kinds of things. When something bad happens, he feels sad and when something good happens, he feels happy and that was about it of his emotional experience. It was fascinating in a way.

But it didn’t make it easier for Hermione.

She couldn’t help but feel as if everything had changed now, as if the entire world had turned upside down.

Every night in that bloody tent or the few times she had booked a hotel room, laying in an uncomfortable bed, Hermione had cried herself to sleep, longing for him, for his touch, thinking he was dead. Now she had him back, felt his skin underneath her fingertips, felt him _inside_ her, something she had never shared with anyone before, and still — she felt so far away from him.

She knew Ron was there, physically, but it seemed as if she couldn’t really reach him, as if he was in another dimension. A dimension where the last few months haven’t happened.

It was something in the way he spoke and the look in his eyes, that _twinkle_ when he talked about school. It was his excitement when he mentioned Dark Arts that threw her off. How could he be so passionate about something so manipulative and wrong?

Ron just seemed so _detached_ of the entire situation, as if he wasn’t living in a world where Voldemort had won and was controlling and observing every step they took. It almost seemed as if he was okay with it.

_"-I only care about you. You gotta believe me-"_

But he was still her Ron. The Ron she knew since she was eleven. The same Ron she went to school with for six years.

But why did he seem so different then?

_"-Merlin, I can’t even describe how happy I am to finally have you back-"_

Hermione shifted on the mattress, rolling onto her side. She was tired. But every time she closed her eyes, a million thoughts rushed through her head. She still felt the dull soreness between her legs, constantly reminding her of what she would rather forget.

_She shouldn’t have done it._

No. Everything was okay. It was nice.

_But it felt so wrong._

It didn’t feel wrong, she just had nothing to compare it to.

_It wasn’t because of that, it was-_

She got on her feet.

It was a waste of time overthinking it. She should get some work done instead, prepare some stuff for breakfast. She was so far behind on her tasks anyway and she knew she wouldn’t be able to get a second of sleep that night.

Hermione tiptoed around the other beds heading towards the large wooden door. The blue light was still shimmering from behind the door, slightly illuminating the floor panels underneath her feet as she slowly took one step after the other. She started wondering where it came from, wondering why it seemed so familiar—

When she reached the door she hesitated, making sure no one was awake. The last thing she needed were people asking her the next morning why she had been awake in the middle of the night, sneaking around the kitchen.

She softly opened the door, slowly and steadily without making a sound. When she stepped outside into the big, quiet kitchen, she closed it behind her just as gently as she had opened it.

As soon as the door was closed, she felt like a burden had been lifted off her shoulders, thankful for the bit of privacy. Closing her eyes, she leaned with her back against the door and deeply exhaled, the tension of the past few hours leaving her body.

Suddenly, soaking in her surroundings, she became painfully aware of the presence of someone else in the room. She quickly opened her eyes and carefully skimmed the kitchen. There were some dull and quiet noises coming from behind an opened kitchen cabinet on the other side of the room.

Maybe someone had the same idea as Hermione and tried to get some work done before breakfast. Or maybe they just wanted to get a glass of water.

She squinted her eyes, trying to detect who it was but Hermione couldn‘t make it out in the dark.

Then she noticed the blue light shimmering through the darkness of the room, illuminating the back of the person, bent over the cabinet. She knew that kind of light and she realized just then where it came from.

It was from a wand.

She started to move closer, being filled with curiosity. She thought to recognize the school uniform.

Could it be Ron?

Her heart started to beat.

She knew she should go back into the chamber, to hide away and not risk anything. But while her thoughts were already heading back through the door, she felt her feet take small steps towards the direction of the light. One foot after the other.

Hermione couldn’t stop herself. She was filled with the overwhelming desire to know who was down in the kitchen at this time. Especially since Luna had just told her a few days ago that no one was allowed down there anymore.

She came closer, the light got brighter and the noises louder.

There was some heavy panting, a deep, stifle voice. A male voice.

Her heart was beating itself to death now, but it was too late to turn around, she was hardly covered by the protective dark shadows of the kitchen anymore.

Her entire posture tensed.

There was a boy wearing the dark school uniform, crouching down, his head hidden deep in the kitchen cabinet. He seemed panicked, gasping for air, looking for something in a few different drawers. His hands shook violently. It looked like he was under a lot of time pressure.

Hermione could identify some random bowls and glasses spread over the kitchenette, some had fallen over, revealing a white powder.

Suddenly the boy straightened up, a tall, slim figure appearing in front of her, revealing his white, messy hair.

Hermoine gasped.

The boy hastily turned around, looking at her wide eyed, his expression frightened and _dreadful_.

_Run._

A thousand memories came flooding back, memories she wished she had forgotten a long time ago. Memories of the blonde haired boy standing at the opposite side of the battlefield surrounded by hysterically laughing and cheering Death Eaters, triumphantly celebrating the death of her best friend.

The exact same boy was now standing right in front of her, the only difference was the look in his eyes, a look she has never seen on him before.

 _Fear_.

He scanned her entire body, up and down, before they locked eyes. They seemed almost black in the dusky light, the blue, grayish tone to them was almost completely gone.

Hermione was too frightened to move a single muscle. And for a split second he seemed to feel the same, mirroring her, his entire body language screaming defense, his hands blindly fumbling for something to hold onto, a glimpse of shock and horror in his eyes.

But that was only for a split second.

In the next, Hermione could see him build up his walls again, his face becoming colder with every second that passed, slowly turning into the boy she knew from school.

His hands suddenly stopped shaking, his muscles — his entire body — being in control again and his breathing slowly but steadily regained a normal rhythm.

He was now casually grabbing his wand, which was still laying behind him, dimly shimmering on the cabinet. The blue light made his cheekbones appear sharper and the bags under his eyes darker, his lips formed a thin line and his pale, ghostly appearance made him almost look corpse-like.

He looked dangerous, like an animal that was ready to kill — ready to hunt her down.

Then something unexpected happened. The right corner of his mouth slowly twisted upwards, forming a deadly smile.

Draco Malfoy was smiling at her. A cold, reflected smile, bitter as nightshade.

Just then Hermione fully comprehended the absurdity of the whole situation. The tables had turned, Draco Malfoy wasn’t the boy she knew from her school time, this man had killed Dumbledore, in some way, building the foundation of Voldemort’s rising.

He was one of them. He was a Death Eater.

And he was looking at her right now, _smiling_ at her, knowing that her small, fragile fate was laying right in the palm of his hand and she knew that he was ready the smash it at any given second.

Hermione suddenly realized that this must be the end. All efforts, all risks McGonagall had to take were for nothing, the entire mission failed, all of the muggleborns would be discovered. All because of her.

Any moment he would touch his Dark Mark, calling Crouch or Bellatrix to torture her again.

Malfoy was still attentively looking at her, studying her expressions, as if she was some kind of unknown species he had to research, to experiment with.

"That’s funny, everyone was convinced you were dead."

His voice was deeper than she remembered, somehow detached and older, but the sound of it still sent a thousand tiny needles spiking down her spine. His mouth was still curled up in a dangerous, arrogant smile.

She felt her whole body shiver.

Malfoy must have realized the effect his words had on her because his smile grew even wider. He seemed relaxed, as if a lot of tension fell from his body. He leaned on the kitchenette, his hands placed behind him on the surface area, supporting his weight, his eyes still locked with her’s.

"What happened to you, Granger," he continued calmly, after Hermione didn’t respond. "What happened to that big mouth of yours? Do you not have any of your smart, know-it-all comments?" He raised an eyebrow, still looking at her anticipatory.

"What a shame, Granger, I was expecting more of you, do you really not want to say anything? Are you not happy to see me? An old school friend?" He was almost grinning now, a cold, evil, unpredictable grin.

She was more than aware that he was playing with her. He knew that this situation was hopeless for her, she had no arguments, couldn’t even play for time, she couldn‘t do anything at all. And he knew it, he was amusing himself.

"I have nothing to say to you, Malfoy," she finally said, her voice much more steady than she’d expected it to be. "I haven’t had anything to say to you, ever since you killed Dumbledore."

And with that sentence, she finally saw a crack in his mask. His left eye twitched and his smile turned into a somewhat disgusted thin line. It wasn’t for long but Hermione was sure she’d seen it, was sure it had been there.

He slowly turned towards the kitchenette now, so that Hermione could only see his back. She was suddenly disgusted by the fact that he knew how much power he had over her, that he could - without thinking about it - turn his back to her, fully aware that she wasn’t in any way able to harm him.

"You see, Granger," he said calmly, now starting to grab his belongings he had spread all over the workspace, putting it back into his pockets. Hermione couldn’t identify what it was but she thought to see a few small see-through bags.

"That’s how the world works, don’t you think? Sometimes- you know- sometimes the more powerful side wins. _Has to win_ ," he continued in an almost gentle voice. "It’s kind of like a natural order. People die, new ones are born. That’s just how it goes, wouldn’t you agree, Granger?"

He turned around again, slowly moving towards her, his hands resting casually in his pockets. He looked so deep into her eyes, she could swear he was burning a hole into her skull. He was soaking her in, reading her thoughts as if she was an open book.

She tried to figure him out but his face and eyes were a blank space to her, a white canvas that he was painting just the way he liked, showing her exactly what he wanted and nothing more.

"And sometimes the world offers small- how do I put it? Small _presents_ for us," he said in his sneering voice.

He was standing a meter away from her and Hermione could see a thin layer of sweat glistening on his forehead which stood in a strange contrast to his calm, deep voice.

"Don’t you think, Granger, that you being here, out of all places, _Hogwarts_ , the place where everything went down, isn’t like a present?"

He was standing right in front of her now, looking down at her. She could smell the sharp and intense scent of his cologne.Every atom in her body wanted to get away from him, wanted to get out of this kitchen, out if this school. But her body stayed stiff, not being able to move a single muscle.

Malfoy looked at her as if he was thinking very hard about something very important, weighting up different options, before finally saying, "I think it’s a present that you’re here-"

He was now slowly walking backwards, his eyes still on her, "-I just haven’t figured out yet, Granger, _who_ this present is for."

He reached the door leading to the hallway, turning around so that Hermione could only see his profile. His head dropped and he chuckled, his eyes closed as if he was laughing about something immensely absurde.

"It’s good that you’re back, Granger," he said casually over his shoulder, before he went through the door completely, leaving her alone in the now completely dark kitchen.


End file.
